Put the Knife Down
by UndiscoveredSpecies
Summary: Do you think everyone can be a good person, if they really try? Papyrus is sparing you.


Snowflakes shimmer in the pale light as they shiver slowly past on the breeze…or is it the dust from the scattered souls of the vermin who dared to get in my way? There is no sound save the crunch of snow under my boots, and for all appearances, I may be the only living thing left in this world. A blissful thought and a fantasy to strive for, at any rate.

Those I have not killed have fled. I can see the faintest track of footprints, wider than my body is tall, print upon print filled in by the falling dust and snow until there are only the subtlest depressions stretching out before me. Within the hour, they will be erased. I'm not worried about that. Where can they run to? The barrier is far away, and if that old goat in the Ruins is any indication, I will make my way easily forward as whatever fools in charge try to shepherd the masses. The elderly. The sick.

The children.

I will kill them all.

Time is not their friend.

I pass through the silent town, my pockets bulging with stolen food and my knife in my hand. The plastic blade is deliciously sharp. I can't see the smears left by the old goat's blood anymore; fine white powder covers the browning streaks. Past the library. Briefly, I entertain the idea of dropping by Grillby's and burning the place to the ground, leaving the licking flames to be extinguished by the evaporating snow, but I don't feel like turning around.

Past the skeletons' house. I try the door handle—there's nowhere to run within those walls. The handle gives a fraction of an inch in either direction. Locked. I move on.

I'm nearly to Waterfall when I see a shape in the mist ahead, someone tall and thin and stupid. Can they hear my giggling as I walk closer? Do they really think that they can stand against me? Sacrificial suicide may buy a sparse few seconds, maybe a minute, but it won't do anything. My determination is too great. A sudden gust of wind sends something fluttering to the figure's side. A scarf. I'm closer now and I can see that it's the tall skeleton.

I tighten my grip on my knife, and I smile.

* * *

"HALT, HUMAN!"

A voice parted the silence like a hand sweeping through water, leaving a turbulent unease in its wake. Sans turned, a chill far colder than the snow rushing over him. _No. Not this._ Papyrus's unmistakable silhouette stood alone before the murderous child, the ragged edge of his scarf flapping in the wind. The wind was against him; if he shouted, there was no guarantee that Papyrus would hear him…but if he did…the child would hear Sans's call as well.

Sans began to run, his feet crunching through the snow. He had to get to his shortcut—there wasn't time to make a new one—and never before had the distance seemed so great. Papyrus's voice, too far to distinguish anything but tones, floated to his ears again but now there was a definite note of alarm. There were no sounds of combat…yet. But Sans had seen the knife. He had seen the dust. He had seen the utter absence of life behind those unnaturally cold eyes. That child was too young to look like that.

"I, PAPYRUS, SEE GREAT POTENTIAL IN YOU!"

 _DON'T TALK TO THEM! KILL THEM! RUN! PAPYRUS, RUN!_ Sans hurtled through the snow, skidding on a patch of ice and falling hard onto his side before scrambling up again, clawing through the snow in his haste to get to his feet. The portal wasn't far, he would emerge in the forest, but would he be too late? _Oh, god, would he be too late?_ Unable to hear Papyrus over the screaming inside his head, Sans hurtled a fallen log and sprinted toward his shortcut.

Throwing himself through it, he emerged at once in the trees parallel to the road to Waterfall. The child was walking closer and there was a definite note of nervousness in his brother's voice. Sans summoned blasters and bones, ready to obliterate the little murderer in every timeline he could find, but he skidded to a stumbling halt as he saw Papyrus open his arms.

The child stepped closer and Sans pulled every ounce of magical energy he had, milliseconds away from destroying them.

Papyrus knelt in the snow and pulled the soulless little beast into an embrace. "I AM PROUD OF YOU," he said. "MAKING THE RIGHT DECISION IS A VERY HARD THING TO DO SOMETIMES, AND YOU HAVE TO BE STRONG AND BRAVE TO TURN AWAY FROM A BAD PATH. BUT LOOK AT YOU! YOU'RE DOING IT NOW!"

Sans couldn't strike without hitting Papyrus. A scream rose in his throat as the child raised the knife, ready to sink it into his brother's back, and he was moving again but the snow was so thick and he wouldn't make it in time, he would be too late and he would watch his brother turn to dust and then—

The child's hand trembled, the blade wavered, and then the impossible happened.

Mercy.

The child's shoulders slumped and they sagged against Papyrus. Sans paused again, magic tingling through the air around him, watching in wide-eyed disbelief as his brother pulled back and said something else, too softly for Sans to hear anything but the gentleness in his voice, that undeserved hope and compassion as his gloved hands closed slowly around the child's wrist. Papyrus uncurled their small, dust-covered fingers and they let the knife fall to the snow. It struck blade first and the black plastic handle quivered slightly before sinking diagonally to the side, handle pointed toward Papyrus.

The summoned blasters and bones began to fade as Papyrus scooped up snow with his free hand and took the child's wrist again, beginning to carefully and thoroughly wash away the dust of the slain. He dried the murderer's hands with the ragged end of his scarf and stood up, saying something else in the same quiet voice, pausing as though waiting for the child to answer, but they remained immobile with their downturned eyes fixed on the black handle of the toy knife. Papyrus lingered for a moment longer before stepping past them and heading back toward Snowdin. Sans stood frozen in the trees, watching the child watching the snowflakes drift down onto the weapon, before he turned back to his portal.

The house was empty when he returned and for a terrible moment Sans wondered if the child's brief flicker of mercy had been snuffed out, if they had snatched up their knife and run after his brother with a vengeance to match their kill count. Something scraped at the door and Sans whirled toward it, his eye flickering rapidly between yellow and pale blue as the doorknob rattled and turned.

Papyrus stepped inside. He had barely time to close the door behind him before Sans tackled him in a hug. The beginnings of a greeting were replaced with concern as he took Sans by the shoulders and knelt in front of him, staring critically at his face. "WHAT'S THE MATTER, SANS? YOU'RE SHAKING!"

Sans wrapped his arms around Papyrus, resting his forehead against his brother's chest so he wouldn't see the tears that had begun to fall. Did he know how close he had come? Did he know what had almost happened?

Papyrus's arms came around him, holding him in a close but confused embrace. "SANS?"

"I'm just…I'm really glad to see you."


End file.
